Ginger biscuits
by CraZYdUCKIE
Summary: What do a Dark Lord, Hermione Granger, moral relativism, an 'abracadabra' charm, hidden magical cities and a psycho 15-year-old have in common? Ginger Biscuits, of course. Hermione talks to Tom to organise a peace treaty and ask why- set after fifth year.
1. Chapter 1

The women clicked her teeth impatiently as the snake-faced man slid into the cushioned guest chair. "Are you ready to begin, sir?"

He frowned, quite a feat with no eyebrows. "I don't understand; where is Potter? I understood that he would be at this meeting."

"Change of plan; I'm here instead," Hermione told him. "Harry's still pretty depressed about Sirius; we were worried he'd try to kamikaze with a bomb. Lucky for you we decided he wasn't coming because we found nitroglycerin in his room yesterday. Goodness knows how he got it…"

Voldemort's lip curled but he said nothing. "Can we begin now? This ceasefire only lasts until midnight."

Hermione rolled her eyes and stood, directing his attention to the whiteboard behind her. "As you can see, I've divided the board up into different sections. First we'll be discussing your ideological motivations, then your goals in a hypothetical situation of government. Agreed?" The dark lord nodded tersely.

"May I say, Miss Granger, you've certainly got an air about you that I'm surprised to see in a fifteen-year-old. My spies tell me that you organised this whole thing yourself?"

_He's baiting you_, she told herself steadily. _He just wants you to ask about the spies, put him in the position of power. _"Yes, well," the brown-haired witch's lips twisted into a grim smile. "After Sirius died all that I could ask myself was 'why?' until it occurred to me that you would be the better person to ask."

He regarded her through cloudy red eyes, silently re-evaluating. Hermione refused to play his game, instead swiftly shuffling the papers in front of her. "So here it is: why do you want to rule Britain?"

"Power," he replied immediately and automatically.

"Alright," she said cautiously. "What will you do with it?"

He blinked his reptilian eyes, dumbfounded. "What do you mean?"

"Well, what do you intend to actually do with this power once you've got it? What difference will there be for Britain, what difference will there be for you?" Hermione asked exasperatedly.

The dark lord tapped a finger to his chin as he thought about the question. "You know, I never really considered anything past the attainment of power itself."

"No laws about killing muggleborns?" she asked with a raised eyebrow.

Voldemort scoffed. "That's purely to gain the support of the old families. Besides which, the wizarding population isn't sustainable without muggleborns; I conducted several studies in the sixties to no avail."

"Shocking, isn't it," noted Hermione, smiling wryly. "Nobody actually looks at the research. I found these really interesting reports on magical population sustainability which said that, because only one parent needs to be magical for the child to be magical, if breeding laws were put into place then every person in Britain would be magical within a century. Then we wouldn't _need_ a statute of secrecy!"

He looked at her, bemused. "I'm aware of the hypothesis, my dear. I wrote those reports."

Hermione smirked at him. "Of course you did. What kind of a pseudonym is T.R. Middle for T.M. Riddle? I was just wondering why, if you wrote those muggle-friendly reports back then, you seem so anti-muggle now."

"At first, it was just for the financial and political support from the old pureblooded families," he sighed, resting his head against the back of his seat. "Then, it seemed to grow and that was all I was known for: the bigot, not the revolutionary thinker I used to be."

"So you really don't want to kill all muggles and muggleborns?" She asked, feeling the need to clarify.

"No, you silly girl. That would make no sense at all, as I'm a halfblood myself."

Hermione gritted her teeth slightly as she stared down at the paperwork in front of her. "But you killed your father, as well as his parents. You murdered the muggle side of your family."

Voldemort chuckled, a chilling sound that sent shivers down her spine. "Of course I did. He abandoned my mother the minute he knew she was pregnant, leaving me to grow up in an orphanage when my mother died giving birth. He deserved to die."

It was that moment that Hermione realised that, however friendly he had been, the man drinking tea before her was still the most famous killer in the wizarding world. "And your grandparents?" She asked frigidly.

He cocked an eyebrow at her. "You mean the people that knew of my existence but chose to ignore it, leaving me in that hellhole? I wouldn't have gone out of my way to destroy them but they were at home and tried to stop me…" Voldemort trailed off. "It just seemed practical."

"Okay," said Hermione, more as a way to cement her anger. "But despite doing that, you never held any ill will towards muggleborns in general?"

"Oh, no," he chuckled. "Of course I hated them at school; less of them with the muggle war on, naturally, but there was this particular girl, Myrtle… She was always complaining about magic, always complaining about how drafty the castle was, always moaning about how terrible the school was. Stupid girl, she never seemed to understand that to be it was like heaven after the _Inferno_, a wonderful break of magic and knowledge after the dull and stupid orphanage. Once I asked her why she was at Hogwarts at all when she hated it so much; she slapped me and said that I was infringing on her rights."

"What did you do to her?" Hermione asked cautiously.

Voldemort smiled fondly at the memory. "I discovered the basilisk in the girls' bathroom, told it to kill her. It was fantastic, blissful silence for all of a month… And then the stupid girl came back as a ghost. Dumbledore wouldn't let me exorcise her, the bastard. Said it was 'for the greater good.'" He snarled and slammed his teacup back into its saucer. "Smug bastard never let me do anything interesting, always said that things were best the way they were."

"But… weren't they?"

"No," he snorted. "There was a war on, a terrible war that killed and mutilated masses of people that could have been saved with magic. By my fifth year I was preparing myself to assassinate Hitler but the bloody professor took away my wand and library privileges until the end of the year to make sure I didn't."

She had to blink at that. "You were going to assassinate Hitler… and Dumbledore stopped you?"

Voldemort nodded, adding softly, "Dumbledore has never been interested in anything that wasn't good for Dumbledore."

"How was the war good for Dumbledore?" Hermione frowned.

"The bombing killed so many of the Wizengamot by mistake that he was able to gain control of it, becoming Head Wizard. After that, he used the confusion to push through laws that allowed the Aurors to obliviate any muggles that saw magic; before that, obliviation was an unforgivable spell. Now it's used practically every day and it's directly influencing the intellect of the muggle population; did you read _Erasing the future of the muggle brain: a study on the effects of obliviation_? I wrote it quite a while back, maybe they removed it from the school library. Anyway, other countries started doing it too and now with the internet, muggles can find stuff out much faster than before; more muggles are being obliviated today than ever before."

"Really? Dumbledore did that?" She bit her lip in thought. "It is true about the Wizengamot being decimated and him gaining power around the second world war… Have you got a copy of that report? I'd very much like to read it."

Voldemort nodded pleasantly and raised his wand. Hermione reacted swiftly in response, but he instantly created a shield and the disarming spell bounced harmlessly off. "Calm down, Miss Granger, I'm simply making a patronus to send to Bella. She can fetch the report for you."

"Oh. Sorry," Hermione said, watching in fascination as the dark lord created a pearly snake. "I thought you couldn't make a corporeal patronus, what with you corrupting your soul killing people and all."

He finished instructing it and sent it off, turning back to face the young witch behind the desk. "You really think that killing people would stop me from doing that? How would Aurors cast it then?"

"Oh. I hadn't thought of that."

"Indeed."

There was a slightly awkward silence as Hermione felt silly and Voldemort reached for a biscuit.

"I'm fairly certain that you have laced my drink with a potion, Miss Granger."

"What? Of course I didn't!"

"You are a very bad liar, Miss Granger," Voldemort observed mildly. "It would not be harmful or you would have been stripped of your magic, so I'm rather inclined to think that it was a mix of truth serum, calming potion and a draught to invite warm conversation. I'm not usually this chatty."

Hermione giggled, she couldn't help it. "I wouldn't think so, either. Or do you practice the art of conversation with your followers as you crucio them?" she teased lightly.

"Now I can't imagine where you got that idea," Voldemort told her sternly. "What on earth makes you think that I crucio my followers?"

She stopped giggling, startled. "But Harry says that he gets visions of you torturing them for bringing bad information."

"Oh, no, not at all. What kind of a leader would I be if I tortured my followers for bad news? How would I ensure that they stay loyal? How would I ensure that I receive necessary information if they're afraid to bring it? And most importantly, how do I project an image of a strong leader if I'm forever flying off the handle and rashly torturing people?"

"Oh."

"Yes, oh," he continued, clearly exasperated with the girl. "Do you not think beyond what you are told, Miss Granger? I mean, we do torture Severus, but he's a damned traitor and I'd be lying if I said that I didn't enjoy punishing traitors."

"Professor Snape is on our side?" Hermione asked, bewildered.

Voldemort snorted. "Professor Snape is on Professor Snape's side. That's why he and Dumbledore get on so well; they are in it for themselves."

"But so are you," Hermione pointed out.

"Yes, but I'm _honest_ about it, aren't it?"

Hermione started giggling again.

"Oh, come now, how are we supposed to have a proper conversation if you're always giggling? Actually, what was that you were saying about Potter having visions?"

Her giggles subsided slightly, then returned in full force. "Sorry, I just can't get over the 'honesty' comment."

Voldemort seemed lost in thought. "Visions of me torturing my followers… Hmmm… Oh, he must be tapping into my daydreams. I always picture crucio-ing Lucius when he's being particularly snotty, just to ruin that perfect hair of his."

Hermione finally managed to control herself. "But what about all those muggleborns you rape?"

"Me?" he asked, clearly offended.

Hermione vaguely waved her hand at him. "Not you, you. You, deatheaters. What about those?"

"Oh. You mean the muggle prostitutes we hire when we have a party?"

She frowned. "But Professor Snape said that you kidnap young girls…"

"Yes, and they just _happen_ to come with stripper clothes and poles, which we obviously _force_ them to set up and wear, as well as muggle pop music, which we _force_ them to dance to as we shove money in their clothes," he replied sarcastically.

Hermione blushed heavily at that. "Well, if you put it like that…"

"Apart from those nights, we have the occasional boys' night out and we usually have it at the Pink Pussycat Club. The closest Death Eaters get to rape is forcing Lucius to go up on stage on Ladies' night."

She started giggling again.

"Oh, honestly, _must _you keep doing that?"

She just laughed harder.

"Whatever," he said in resignation, reaching for a ginger biscuit.

After a few moments of Hermione gasping for breath amid chuckles of "Lucius… stripping… pink pussycat… oh my god… tell Draco… look on his face…" the girl got her composure back.

"If you're quite ready to proceed, Miss Granger? We have matters of policy to discuss," Voldemort told her in exaggeratedly patient tones.

She took a few deep breaths and then dissolved into giggles again.

"Bloody hell," muttered Voldemort. "This again?"


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

"Okay," she said, steeling herself. "It's alright. I'm perfectly calm…"

"Good to know," Voldemort remarked sardonically. "Do you suppose we can do the damn thing then?"

Hermione took a deep breath. "Yes, we can."

He swivelled in his chair to face her.

"Alright, so… If we do end up negotiating this out and we end up at some kind of settlement, would you be willing to face trial for your crimes?"

He smirked at her. "What crimes?"

"Killing people!" she replied exasperatedly.

Voldermort quirked an eyebrow at the girl. So impatient… "And why is that a crime, Miss Granger?"

She frowned at him. "Because killing people is wrong."

"Oh?" he asked, beginning to smile the slow smile of somebody who's already won the debate. "So, in any situation, killing is wrong?"

"Yes!"

He leaned back and steepled his fingers. "So… Hypothetical situation. There is an insane murderer about to kill your family and you have the means to kill him. Do you kill the maniac or let your family die?"

"Well, I'd kill the maniac, I guess…"

"How about this one? You discover a ritual that allows a person to take the life energy from people in order to increase their magic. You assemble fifty of the nastiest people in the world, people who have murdered, raped, stolen, burned and assaulted their way through life; if you kill all those people, you can give their energy to Harry, who is dying of an incurable disease, and he will live. Do you choose the fifty scum or your best friend?"

Hermione didn't have to think about that one. "I'd kill the scum."

"Excellent; one more, I think. You've been trapped in a magical object for decades, trying to get out and achieve your ambitions of making the world a better place. Finally, a woman comes along and your one chance to escape that living hell is to drain her. The woman is stupid, irresponsible and you know she's killed before. Do you choose you, or the woman?"

Here she paused. "I would choose me."

Voldemort smiled victoriously. "Miss Granger, you just justified killing Ginny Weasley in the Chamber of Secrets."

"No I didn't," She retorted immediately.

He smirked at her. "Yes, you did. The situation that I described to you was exactly what happened in your second year."

Her face went from righteous anger to stunned realisation. "That doesn't make me a bad person."

"So tell me, Miss Granger," He continued, with the air of one placing their final move in a chess game, "How does doing that make _me_ a bad person?"

"Well," she began, then hesitated. "Um…"

"So eloquent, Miss Granger," chuckled the Dark Lord.

She didn't like it that he kept using her name; she'd read about it in a novel once. He kept saying it because it put him in a position of power; he was invoking traditions of a classroom situation and she was responding to them by deferring to Voldemort, student to teacher! That was unacceptable.

"Don't criticise my vocabulary, Mr Riddle," she snapped in response.

His eyes darkened. "My name," he hissed, "is Lord Voldemort."

Hermione chuckled derisively. "Do you really think that I care about maintaining your delusions?" she asked cruelly, intentionally provoking him. "Whatever lies you may tell yourself, _Tommy_, I know what you really are; just a poor, lonely little orphan that nobody ever loved."

Where before he had been flinching, Voldemort suddenly sat stiffly straight. "Miss Granger, if you wish to live, you will cease in these comments, you will allow me to speak and we will continue discussion until the treaty times out. At that point, depending on your behaviour, I may or may not allow you to escape here with your life. _Do you understand me, Miss Granger?_"

The girl nodded meekly.

"Excellent." He recovered from his cold rage, sipping at his tea as he did so. "Now that we have established that, I feel it necessary to inform you that if the Ministry does not surrender, I have a large, fully trained force waiting for my signal. Everybody inside will be slaughtered."

Hermione took a moment to absorb this, still reeling from his statement earlier.

"Except," she said slowly. "That's not what you want."

"Whatever are you talking about, girl?" he snapped.

Hermione looked at him, warm brown meeting icy red. "You don't really want to just take over the Ministry."

"Of course I do!"

"No, you don't," she told him firmly. "If you took over the Ministry, all of your insane inner circle would finally be able to indulge themselves rather than focusing on plotting… You'd lose control."

"What?" he hissed.

"You barely have control now," she exclaimed, new insights blooming into her mind. "They're like a bunch of vicious dogs; so long as they had something to attack, you could order them around but as soon as there's no enemy they'll degrade into a pack of savage beasts."

"No," Voldemort insisted through gritted teeth.

"That's why you never took over before," she continued, still lost in her line of thought. "With Lucius' connections and the Black's fortune you could easily have bought your way into the position of Minister; but you didn't. If you had done that, there would have been no enemy at all, you would have just been stuck there, mundane and busy, suddenly plagued by tax riots and filing disasters and staffing problems…"

"Nonsense," he insisted firmly, though his eyes kept straying to the still-speaking girl.

"You'd practically be ordinary!" Hermione told him gleefully. "You'd _hate_ ruling Britain!"

He ignored for gaze for a while as she chuckled heartily, finally staring back at her. "Shut up," he told her stubbornly.

That just drove Hermione, who had clearly been expecting some kind of witty retort, over the line into full blown laughter.

"Why do we always return to this?" he asked despairingly.

"I dunno," Hermione replied mischievously. "I think it's because you're _normal_ and _normal people_ enjoy laughing at each other." At the disgusted look on his face, she returned to her cheerier state of being.

Voldemort propped his head up on his elbow despondently. "I worked hard, all my life. I manoeuvred and plotted and planned and studied and practised and spied… and all it's led to is this fifteen-year-old witch, laughing at me. What have I done to deserve this?"

"It might have been the whole killing people thing that did it," she informed him brightly. He sighed heavily and Hermione dissolved into giggles again.

"But they were useless… Why shouldn't I have killed them?" Voldemort asked plaintively.

She stopped laughing and looked up at him curiously. "Do you honestly believe that some people have more worth than others? That some people don't even deserve to live?"

He regained some of his former arrogance, telling her, "Oh, but we've already established that you value some lives far more than others…"

Hermione wanted to pull his teeth out one by one, just so that she could enjoy the pleasure of ruining that annoying smirk piece by piece… Did that make her Dark? She thought about it. No, she eventually decided. She wasn't Dark, but she would have enjoyed making him suffer anyway.

Observing her frustration, Voldemort chuckled. "Come now, Miss Granger, do you truly believe in absolute morality? That in no situation is a killing justifiable?"

"No, I guess I don't," Hermione admitted. "It sounds so nice in theory, but as soon as you encounter real situations… People are just more selfish than we like to admit, I guess."

He just smirked, smugly aware of the truth in her last statement. They shared a moment of contemplation and then Voldemort looked at her inquiringly.

"Now that we've established that I don't want to rule Britain and you're not a goody-two-shoes, any other questions you want to ask me?" Voldemort asked casually, quirking an eyebrow.

Hermione grinned back at him. "I do actually…" She perused her notes. "Ah, here we are. Why do you put huge, immediately recognisable tattoos on all of your death eaters? I mean, that's got to only hinder your efforts."

He chuckled at that. "You really have no idea? Brightest witch of the age and all, and you really have no idea?" Hermione just stared back cluelessly. "Oh, Miss Granger, you really are blind sometimes. My recruiting base is primarily teenage boys; I offer a parent-approved tattoo involving both a snake and a skull. I've been informed that the Mark, along with the boys' nights out, make the death eaters- and I quote- 'totally awesome'."

Hermione started giggling again.

"You know, Miss Granger, by all accounts you are not a giggly person. I must ask why you find so many of my statements so amusing."

She caught her breath and looked at him pensively. "I don't know, actually. I rather suspect it's a combination of the cheering potion in my tea, the anticlimactic nature of your statements and the fact that my best friends have a sense of humour that largely consists of fart jokes and unkind comments; they would find this exchange horrifying while I simply find it amusing."

Voldemort snickered into his tea. "It appears that you have a lack of intellectual equal, Miss Granger. Do take care to avoid becoming a Dark Lord; it's quite tiresome."

"What do you mean? I'm not going to become a Dark Lord!" Despite her protestations, Hermione didn't seem quite as horrified as she should be.

He smirked at her. "I didn't say that you would; however, your situation is one that I found myself in in fifth year and my thoughts started turning Dark."

"But," she stuttered, "I would never…"

"Oh? You never wished to slap your classmates when they fail to understand the simplest of concepts? You never wished to injure your teachers when they fail to educate you to the standards that you require and deserve?"

She bit her lip. "That doesn't make me Dark."

"No, it doesn't," he reassured her smoothly. "However, it does make you frustrated with the society that we live in, frustrated with the stupid people that populate the world."

Hermione glared at him. "Yeah, so?"

"So nothing. Just be aware that your frustration can grow into hate, which is all the motivation you need to become Dark."

She morosely sipped her tea. "I don't want to be Dark."

Voldemort snickered. "Yes, you do. You want to be as unrestrained by rules as I am, and you know it. The only thing that's stopping you is a foolish attachment to Potter and that Weasley bloke," he told her firmly, repressing a shudder at 'Weasley.'

"Wait a second," she said, suddenly inspired. "Harry gets your daydreams, right? What do you get of his?"

The most feared Dark Lord in a century started twitching. He looked at her pathetically. "Why did you ask me that? I can stop the twitching as long as I don't think about it…"

"What is it?" she asked, very nearly looking concerned. "Are you alright?"

Voldemort managed to control himself, drawing his thin frame up in his chair. "I am perfectly fine, thank you. I just have psychological trauma thanks to that crazy friend of yours."

"What do you mean? Harry isn't crazy!"

"Oh yes he is. That young boy is an extremely disturbed individual."


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter three**

Hermione was outraged on Harry's behalf. "Harry is perfectly fine!"

"Miss Granger, are you aware of the circumstances surrounding his parents' death? I didn't think so. I knew the Potters; James was a nice guy but Lily was a little bit of a loose cannon. Lovely people, both of them. Anyway, I consulted a Seer one year to see if my birthday celebration was going to be good that year and suddenly she chokes up on a prophecy! It described Harry being the greatest threat to Britain when he grew older, as he would become an insane psychopath on his seventeenth birthday and with the power of both the Potter and Black fortunes he would destroy the nation!"

Hermione's eyes were like dinner plates.

"As you can imagine, that somewhat disturbed me, so I came up with a plan. I explained the situation to James over butterbeer and suggested that I take him to a facility for six months to correct his mind, then return him happy and healthy. It was a very sensible plan, so James agreed and we set a date for me to collect the boy."

"Wait a second; you say you were friends with James? He was an Auror, he would have hated you!" 

He frowned at her. "James Potter was a dear friend of mine, thank you very much. I taught him for seven years of DADA and remained his friend for the four years between his graduation and his death. We worked together to eliminate the scum of the wizarding world and nearly succeeded."

"What do you mean? Weren't you heading the Death Eaters?"

"Yes, I was. However, I was also rather politically savvy and made an arrangement with Mr Potter… He would gather intel on terrorist groups and I would have my Death Eaters destroy them as 'competition,' a system that worked quite well. You never wondered at the lack of Ministry opposition apart from my group?"

Hermione shook her head mutely.

"Miss Granger, I do wonder what they teach at Hogwarts these days. The first act of mine after forming the Death Eaters was to infiltrate the Ministry and make copies of all the undercover Auror files. I used the files to discover the meeting times for various underworld gangs, at which point I ordered my Death Eaters to attack. We caught them by surprise in their 'secret' bases, destroying them completely."

"Why not just get the Aurors to take care of them, if you'd infiltrated the Ministry?"

Voldemort scoffed. "Aurors are restrained by regulation and these groups were both powerful and insane. By law, Aurors have to try to restrain criminals rather than use lethal force; if they had to fight those groups, many of them would have been killed or incapacitated immediately. This was obviously not the best option."

Hermione frowned in thought. "So you and James worked together to get rid of the dangerous groups?"

He nodded sagely.

"Oh."

Voldemort sipped his tea.

"So what happened the night that Harry got his scar?"

"Well," he began. "James and I had arranged for me to pick up Harry on the night of the 31st. They were in hiding, as James was worried about Harry's safety with all the public statements James was making against Greyback's group." Voldemort seemed about to continue, but noticed Hermione's confused look.

"Who's Greyback?"

"An extremely dangerous werewolf."

"Hey! Professor Lupin is a werewolf and he's a perfectly nice man!"

The Dark Lord sighed heavily. "Miss Granger, pushing aside your unreasonable assumption of prejudice for a moment, may I say that Greyback is the worst kind of man in the world? He waits until the full moon, then positions himself in the neighbourhoods of children whose parents have offended him; Greyback intentionally attacks and turns wizarding children."

Hermione had her hands over her mouth, clearly horrified.

"Do you understand my point now, Miss Granger?"

"Yes, most definitely."

"Very well then, I shall continue. I arrived at the house and met up with James. Lily didn't approve of my idea, thought that her precious baby boy would never need any help," he scoffed. "James agreed with me, told her that it wouldn't hurt, but she just wouldn't let me take Harry. She had the night shift at St Mungo's so James and I had a couple of beers, watched one of Lily's muggle films. Then Lily arrived home early, I still don't know why."

"What happened?" Hermione asked, completely fascinated.

"She freaked out, naturally," Voldemort told her, a half-smile on his lips. "She didn't know about my deal with James so she immediately raced upstairs to Harry's room. James was in trouble but I was highly amused. I called up to her 'Lily, take Harry and go! It's him! Go! Run! I'll hold him off -,' pretending I was James. He burst out laughing at that, as you do, so we went upstairs to collect Harry. Lily had locked the door so we burst in. She thought I was going to kill Harry, I remember she was pleading… 'Not Harry, not Harry, please not Harry!'" He seemed to be fondly reminiscing by this point. "I told her to stand aside so I could collect Harry, but she just kept whining. Lily still thought that I was going to kill Harry."

He paused and Hermione anxiously motioned for him to continue.

"James had gone back downstairs to get my coat so I could apparate directly out, so he was stuck behind me in the doorway. I cast an Auror spell on Harry; it sounds and looks just like the killing curse but actually causes instantaneous sleep. Lily's screaming and James is laughing because he's shown her the spell before and she's _still_ completely upset. At that point, Lily does some kind of electrical spell- she must have invented it because I had never seen it before- and I put up a shield. James wants to go in and calm her down but I shove him out into the corridor. Lily sees me pushing him and casts a heart-stopping curse which bounces off my shield and hits James; he's down immediately. I attempt to check his pulse but Lily just starts up the electrical spell again, screaming about how I killed her husband. I start to back out of the room, and the edge of my shield- with the electricity running along it- hits the metal doorframe. Lily had insisted on muggle electrical fixtures and lights so the electric spell both exploded the lightbulb and electrified Harry's crib. Harry wasn't harmed-"

"The crib acted as a Faraday cage?" interjected Hermione.

"Yes, yes. He wasn't harmed by the electricity but the glass from the broken bulb covered the crib, which is why he has that scar, I suspect. If some of the glass is still trapped in there, it could be why the wound's never healed. In any case, Lily was holding onto the metal crib and died from her own spell."

Hermione blinked. "That pretty much matches up with what Harry's told me."

"Of course it does," he told her smoothly. "That's what happened."

"So what happened with the Triwizard Tournament?" she asked curiously, most of her animosity removed with her illusions.

Voldemort leaned back and steepled his fingers. "After Lily managed to kill herself, I tried to revive both her and James but was unsuccessful. I was going to remove Harry but with the spell I used, apparition or portkey use would kill the boy and Hagrid had just arrived on the scene. I was reluctant to allow more unnecessary violence so left my robe on the floor in the hopes that the wizards would think me dead."

"You weren't dead all those years?"

He chuckled. "Of course not. I was travelling the world, expanding my knowledge and creating my Horcruxes- ah, no questions about those until later. You asked about Harry's fourth year so that's what I'll tell you about. I became aware that, due to the Ministry's growing incompetence, Britain was in danger, so I returned."

"Harry was having visions though, and you killed Cedric!"

"Miss Granger, if those visions were real, do you suppose that he might have recieved more of them, outside my 'rebirth'?" Voldemort asked pointedly. "I have been alive for his entire life, after all. The only reason he receives them at all is because I attempted to establish a connection when he was five, in order to fix his mental problem. I was interrupted and the psychic connection was made permanent, something that I have used to manipulate events."

Hermione paused at that.

"Furthermore, I did not kill the Hufflepuff boy. I cast the Abracadabra spell on him, intending to set the boy up in the Ministry as an information gatherer. Unfortunately..."

"Harry grabbed him when he grabbed the portkey, killing him!" Hermione finished. "What about the rest of it then?"

He seemed pleased that she understood. "I had, of course, staged minor attacks before this- attempting to attain the Stone in your first year, organising the Chamber event of your second. Sirius Black escaped in your third year, so I held back another event in case you were busy with that."

"So... you intentionally attacked after final exams every year to make sure you didn't inconvenience us? Isn't that just a little bit predictable?"

"Ah, but you never caught on before now, did you?" Voldemort asked knowingly.

Hermione bit her lip, slightly ashamed.

"The purpose of all these events was to awaken the complacent Wizarding world; are you aware of the pitiful state of the Ministry's magical creature relations? Only effective action can stop a bloody revolt, yet they still do nothing!"

Hermione seemed shocked by his sympathetic state of mind. "You mean you never meant to hurt Harry?"

The Dark Lord scoffed lightly. "Do you honestly believe that three eleven year olds could defeat the complex and powerful wards surrounding the Stone? I removed them and placed a compulsion charm on you so that you would run across the area and become fascinated by it."

"Well, that does make more sense than the trials we encountered..." muttered Hermione.

"Did you honestly think that a twelve year old could defeat a Basilisk? Or that one could survive underneath a school for fifty years without food?" He seemed almost scornful now. "Did you honestly believe that a thirteen year old could repel hundreds of Dementors single-handedly? Or that Dumbledore would encourage you to illegally use a Time Turner? That was me, invisible and polyjuiced respectively."

"How did the Headmaster not suspect?"

"Old Dumbles has his fingers in so many pies that he can't handle the pastry properly anymore. I set Harry up as the Chosen One, gave him a few cryptic clues every year after his adventures."

Hermione was stymied. "But why?"

"Reform, Miss Granger. After my Death Eaters have purged the dangerous illegals, Harry will purge the Death Eaters and 'defeat' me in a very public and impressive duel, despite his magical knowledge being a drop to my ocean. Everybody will believe it, because he is the Chosen One and therefore awesomely powerful," he continued, rolling his eyes. "He will marry the little Weasley and become Head of the DMLE while you marry another Weasley and become Minister. You will finally push through the purist glass ceiling and put in place legislation to harmonize Britain while I will finally be left in peace to research and explore ancient magics. Sound like a good plan to you?" he finished flippantly.

She frowned. "But I thought you were going to take over Britain?"

"Do keep up, Miss Granger. Instead, I'm going to kidnap Harry, restore his mind and fix everything another way. Much more satisfying and with this method I can have Lucius killed and claim it was an accident."

Hermione finally remembered her outrage from earlier, having been lost in her inherent curiousity. "You had Sirius killed!"

"Miss Granger, I was with your little group every step of the way, only making a public appearance when Bellatrix looked to be about to kill Harry. At the moment when Sirius died, I was forced to make a choice between defending your band of incompetents from my highly trained Death Eaters or saving the life of an Auror-trained adult that could take care of himself."

"But-" Hermione began weakly.

"Would you care to know which curses were about to land at that moment?" Voldemort inquired politely. "You could have them chronologically, alphabetically or by lethality as it was quite a list."

"Just... just sum up what would have happened if you had saved Sirius."

He cleared his throat. "Miss Weasley would be missing internal organs, Mr Weasley would have had his entire body thinly sliced. Miss Lovegood would have been turned inside out and burned to a crisp while Mr Longbottom would have had his spine severed at every joint. Mr Potter, meanwhile, would have been haemorrhaging in every cell of his body, roasted, vomiting out his liquified organs from every orifice, bled to death, had all his limbs chopped off and his brain would have exploded within his skull; I'm not sure that all that is physically possible at once, but he would not have lived in any case. Such an effort was saving Mr Potter that I was almost unable to deflect several cutting curses, a bone-breaking hex and an exploding spell from your person."

Hermione gulped.

"Furthermore, if I had been forced to watch over him as I did you all, far greater damage would have been done to yourself and Mr Potter."

She wanted to protest that they weren't that bad, that the DA had trained them... but somehow she knew that it was true. There was no way that six schoolchildren, outnumbered and outskilled many times over, could have possibly even survived that battle. Even Draco Malfoy had arrived as a first year knowing more curses than she did in fifth, due to his father's influence. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter four**  
"Do you understand my position now, Miss Granger?" he asked gently.

She did, she really did, and she hated to ask more questions but she really wanted to know his version of what had happened in fourth year.

"Yes, I do. May I ask what happened in fourth year?"

Voldemort appeared pleased by her respectful tone. "Certainly, Miss Granger. I had, in accordance with the supposed events of my death, feigned an allergy to Mr Potter in your first year. To correct this, I used some of his blood in a phony rebirth ritual. Before this, I had sent Mr Potter visions of myself as some kind of gross thing, killing muggles and the like while actually working at Hogwarts under the guise of Professor Moody."

"But Moody was Barty Crouch, and he was Kissed!"

"How do you know that Moody was Crouch?"

"Well... The Polyjuice wore off..." Hermione realised just how stupid that sounded. Because they had 'unmasked' the villain, everybody assumed that Crouch was indeed Crouch while any idiot could have disguised themselves twice to fool watchers.

Voldemort beamed at her, a disconcerting effect on his snake-like face. "You see, Miss Granger? I created a simulacrum to be there in my place while I was in the graveyard and then later while I was avoiding being Kissed. A trained Occlumens can defeat Veritaserum with ease and I swiftly convinced Dumbledore of my guilt. Unfortunately, that moronic Fudge took action to suppress this knowledge and my plan was foiled."

The girl swiftly processed this. "Wait a second!"

"Why do you always say that? Are you really so insecure that you must announce your presence before you speak?" he asked, genuinely irritated.

Hermione shrugged sheepishly. "It's just a habit I got into with Harry and Ron. They don't really listen most of the time unless you give them proper warning."

He cocked an eyebrow. "Hmmm. Continue."

"Yes. Um… Oh yes, if the rebirth in the graveyard was fake, how come you look like a snake?"

Voldemort chuckled lightly. "Ever the sharp mind, I see." He waved his wand lightly over his body, restoring it to its actual form.

She glanced up and down his body. Voldemort looked to be about twenty, still youthful and handsome. His intense blue eyes stared challengingly at her as Hermione examined.

Something suddenly clicked for Hermione then; often, she would notice something off about a comment but allow it to sit in the back of her mind until she figured it out.

"Earlier, you said that you wanted to rule Britain," Hermione began suspiciously. Voldemort nodded assent. "And then you said that you actually helped us through our school years." He agreed with this as well. "And then later you said that you did that because you actually wanted Harry to destroy you," she continued, the Dark Lord still acquiescent. "But then you said that you just came up with that plan."

He just stared at her, obviously not connecting the dots the way that she was.

"Well, obviously, you can't have done all that for Harry if you had _just_ come up with that plan, because you did it all when you still wanted to rule Britain!" Hermione finished exasperatedly.

"Oh."

"Yes, oh!"

He stared into space, obviously trying to recall. "Oh yes, it was in order to set Harry up as leader of the wizarding world. He would be a figurehead for the Light, and once I killed him publicly, there would be no resistance for decades as everybody would have believed that he was the only one that could defeat me."

"Isn't that just a little bit convoluted?"

Voldemort smiled at her, blue eyes twinkling. "Ah, but you see, Miss Granger, when you heard about Harry being 'destined to defeat me' did you continue to entertain rebellious notions of your own, or move to simply supporting Harry?"

Hermione scowled.

"So you understand, it was convoluted but it would have worked quite well." Voldemort told her merrily, refilling his tea and then taking several sips. "This tea is really quite good," he said conversationally.

"If you're so clever to come up with that, how come you don't rule already?" she snapped, clearly upset with how easily she had been manipulated.

"We've been over this, Miss Granger. I didn't really want to rule Britain." He reminded her gently.

Hermione sighed deeply. "Whatever."

"Are you going to start with that 'teenage angst' thing I've heard so much about," Voldemort asked eagerly. "Because I hear that when he gets visions, he 'angsts' for hours."

"You want some teenage angst?" she demanded. "How's this? I'm worried about Harry and his drama, I'm worried that Ginny is getting obsessed with Harry, I'm worried about how much I like Ron when we're so clearly incompatible, I'm worried about getting a boyfriend, about whether it would screw up my friendships, about whether to have sex, about whether to wear makeup, about my body, about my hair, about what Ginny secretly thinks about all those things, about what Ron thinks about all those things, about whether I'll get good grades, that I'll be a total failure, that I'll be expelled, that Draco Malfoy will be an even bigger pain in the arse this year, that everybody thinks I'm ugly, that everybody thinks I'm frigid, that I don't know how to dress like a witch, that I don't know how to dress like a muggle, that my parents will start to hate me because I'm magical, that I've failed my OWLS and I'm going to end up working as a bloody house elf for some rich scum, but mostly I'm worried because I'm talking to the Dark Lord and I haven't actually found anything objectionable besides a killing-people thing!"

Hermione had let all that out in one big rush and now she gasped for breath.

"Anything else," he asked mildly.

"Yes, actually," she said with dignity. "I really like the ginger biscuits."

"Well, that's certainly a relief. I'm quite fond of them as well," he told her, staying on the safe topic.

Hermione took a measured sip from her drink and then took a ginger biscuit as well. Voldemort matched her movements and they sat in companionable silence for a while.

Finally Voldemort spoke up. "I'm sure that Ron likes you as well and I'll bet that you're perfectly compatible," he told her, accurately pinpointing the most urgent worry of the lot.

Hermione smiled weakly at him. "Thank you."

They smiled at one another for a long moment, then returned to contemplative silence.

"Do you suppose," Suggested Voldemort tentatively, "That we could come up with some kind of peaceful resolution? You now know my motives better than anybody else alive, so we should be able to come to a mutually satisfying arrangement."

The witch nodded, thoughtful. She drew a fresh sheet of paper from her stack and clicked a pen into action.

Voldemort raised an eyebrow, but spoke with a voice bare of scorn. "A muggle device?"

"A pen," she affirmed. "They store ink inside them instead of needing an inkwell." He seemed satisfied with this.

"Those," he told her, indicating the pen, "will need to be part of the arrangement. Quills drive me nuts, always tickling my nose."

"Me too," gasped Hermione. "And Harry always gets me quills for Christmas, these massive ones that just _irritate_ me!"

They grinned at one another. "Put me down for about a hundred," he told her genially. "I'll be wanting more than that, actually; I bet there'd be a massive market for them at Hogwarts."

The girl's eyes sparkled with ambition. "Care for a business partner in this new era of peace?" she suggested, sticking her hand out.

Voldemort shook it. "Certainly, my dear. How's 'Riddle and Granger' sound?"

"'Granger and Riddle' sounds better," she informed him smugly. He sighed in resignation and nodded graciously.

"Does this mean you're happy with the name Riddle?" Hermione asked curiously.

He shrugged. "I'll be changing my first name to something else, but I do actually like Riddle. It's much more mysterious and interesting than Gaunt; that just sounds like a prison name."

"Saruman Riddle," suggested Hermione.

"Miss Granger," he informed her archly, "I refuse to go by the moniker of a Lord of the Rings character."

"You've read Lord of the Rings? Seriously?"

He just smirked at her.

She sighed and rolled her eyes.

"I myself am rather inclined to Osiris Riddle. Very appropriate, what with me apparently returning to life and all," noted Voldemort.

She rolled the word around in her mouth to see if it sounded right. "Well, it works, _Osiris_."

Osiris grinned at her.

"Doesn't that just make you feel better inside?"

Hermione just scowled at him.

He grinned back disarmingly and she found her resolve melting, deciding to change the subject before she discovered herself grinning back. "Whatever. What do you want out of this negotiation?"

Osiris listed them off on his fingers. "Immunity from prosecution, a ridiculous amount of money, an opportunity to teach Defence at Hogwarts again and also anonymity so that nobody will come hunting me; it'll be much more extra paperwork if I'm legal."

She raised an eyebrow. "And what would you be giving the Ministry in return for this?"

Voldemort leaned forward with a predatory grin. "Ironclad evidence against all my death eaters, of course. A guarantee to follow Ministry laws. An excellent assassin in the instance of another Dark Lord. A master spellcaster that can ensure that the Unforgiveables are instantly traceable for the Ministry."

Hermione had to admit that his offer was very good, especially if accompanied by a guarantee of peace. She kept her minimal doubts plain on her face, though, if only to see what else he could offer.

"I will also," he continued. "Provide a list of bribed persons in the Ministry, along with detailed financial records."

Her eyes lit up like Christmas. "I could get rid of Fudge!"

"You could get rid of Fudge," Voldemort acknowledged.

Hermione was grinning like mad, plotting wildly about who she would arrange to replace him.

"Miss Granger," he said gently, fearing reprisal if she was angered. "May we continue?"

"Yes, yes," murmured Hermione, who was still openly gleeful.

"Very well. In summary, my offer is that, in return for immunity, I will hand every death eater and corrupt official to the Aurors on a silver platter. Is that acceptable?" he said with an air of finality.

The girl grinned. "I'll send Madam Bones a message to see if she accepts it; if the Minister is corrupt, as head of the DMLE she's in charge. Would you like me to add that you're not so evil after all?"

Osiris Riddle cocked an eyebrow. "Voldemort was an incredibly evil man, incredibly powerful and maniacal. Osiris Riddle, on the other hand… You may speak to her about Osiris. If this treaty is carried out, Voldemort will cease to exist."

She nodded seriously and swiftly penned a letter to Amelia Bones, describing the situation and its result. Osiris took the time to partake of more of the delightful biscuits.

When she had finished, Osiris took the scroll and spelled it, both of them watching the object zoom into the distance. After a momentary silence, Hermione spoke again. "So what was it you were saying about Horcruxes?"

He leaned forward and steepled his fingers. "Well, after doing much research in obscure texts, I discovered a way to immortality."

"How did you do that? By all accounts, it's impossible!"

Osiris grinned at her. "Miss Granger, I make it a point to do at least one impossible thing before breakfast each morning. It makes life more interesting."

"How does it work then?"

"I utilised a series of Time Turners as well as what is labelled as Dark Magic to bind my soul to the earth; I will therefore never leave this physical plane. As I did this as a seventh-year, while my body was still young and quick-repairing, I will remain youthful and swift-healing for eternity."

"That's pretty clever," admitted Hermione. "How did you actually tie your soul though? Most soul magics require blood sacrifice."

At this he chuckled. "Historically, the rites I used have required literally mountains of fresh skulls to be effective, but by amalgamating all twelve of the rituals I discovered that the spell only required one sacrifice as well as a fresh egg and four cc of mouse blood."

Hermione gasped. "Who did you sacrifice?"

"That's the interesting thing, actually. Previous Dark Lords seemed to believe that sacrifice meant humans; in fact, I just ritually slaughtered a cockroach."

"That's..." she began, trailing off. "They really didn't require a _human_ sacrifice?"

Osiris shrugged. "Well, it worked, so obviously not."

She frowned, deep in thought. "Doesn't that mean that most of the 'dark' magic that's illegal is just improperly applied?"

"Why, of course! Blood-draining and bone-breaking curses were designed for use in abattoirs, while skin-peeling spells were designed for chefs to peel fruit en masse. Every spell bar one has a practical and ethical use but 'Dark' spells have been outlawed simply because they were misused."

"What's the one that's completely Dark?" she asked curiously.

"The Cruciatus," he replied simply. "The killing curse offers painless release for critically ill patients; the imperious allows people to work despite crippling phobias. Most compulsion spells were founded to cure people of bad habits like smoking or drug use while many destructive hexes were designed for the construction industry. Of all the illegal spells, the Cruciatus does nothing but cause pain to the victim; it has no other use or purpose."

Hermione nodded thoughtfully.

"Furthermore, the nature of magic is such that the intent of the caster matters more than the actual spell used. If I used a disarming spell but my intent was to kill you, I would throw you against a wall and cause massive injury. However, if I used a killing spell but my intent was to disarm you, it would simply cause you to black out momentarily so that I could seize your wand. In fact, the words and wand movements are simply to focus the intent of the spellcaster; most wizards cannot concentrate fully enough on the one thing to actually cast a spell so they practice foolish wand waving in order to lay familiar tracks through their magic, like muscle memory in a fencer."

Hermione was having chilling flashbacks to Professor Snape's scornful speech in her first year. Even this disturbing memory, however, was not enough to restrain the girl from the rampant inquisitiveness that would have landed her in Ravenclaw but for a quirk of fate. It was, therefore, quite fortunate for Osiris that Bella now arrived with a crack of apparition, a box of books in her arms.

"Bella!" he exclaimed. "Whatever took you so long?"

Madam Lestrange stood stiffly regarding the young muggleborn, diverting her eyes with some effort to her master. "I couldn't find them in your library, my Lord. Some of the more recent graduates had messed up the filing system and I had to individually identify each book."

"Do punish them properly, Bella," He told her. "I think that reorganising the library and cataloguing all of the new arrivals would be a correct payment."

Her mouth twitched like she would say something but Osiris correctly read her expression and reassured the witch that the punishment was enough. "That includes that massive order from France that arrived last week, Bella." Her eyes lit up at that and the woman practically skipped away to the apparition point.

When they heard the loud 'pop' that indicated her exit, the two remaining relaxed.

"So those are all the studies that you did while you were supposed to be dead?" Hermione clarified, nearly salivating at the number of them.

He nodded and the witch leapt upon the box, immediately settling down to read the one on top.

"Go ahead and have a look, Miss Granger," Osiris told her empty chair petulantly. "Don't worry about waiting."

"Mm Hmm," hummed Hermione, totally unrepentant as she continued reading.

He sighed and reached for a biscuit. "I wouldn't be so offended if you at least _pretended_ to be listening to me."

Hermione nodded thoughtfully and it took a moment for Osiris to realise that it was a pacifying act and not a genuine gesture of attention. He scowled and chewed unhappily on his biscuit.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

In a spectacular display of excellent timing, at that moment Amelia Bones appeared at the apparition point.

Monocle clamped firmly over her nose, she peered down at Osiris. "Who, may I ask, are you?"

He rose and performed a dramatic bow with a flourish. "Osiris Riddle, at your service. I'm negotiating to screw over my Lord Voldemort."

Amelia had no time for dramatics, and told him so. "Mr Riddle, I received the terms of your negotiation. However, I was under the impression that You-Know-Who was here himself."

"Oh, no," Osiris reassured her. "He is paranoid about ambushes, never leaves his castle. I, however, am hidden enough to be unrecognised by Aurors and also have enough information to negotiate properly."

Amelia glanced down at Hermione, who was still engrossed in her reading, while Osiris offered her a seat.

"Mr Riddle, how will you perform those acts of magic without the consent of Voldemort? He is the most powerful wizard in the Death Eaters."

Osiris chuckled lightly. "He is the most powerful dueller," he corrected. "I am the most powerful wizard; however, my duelling skill is pitiful. I am the wizard that creates the powerful protections on his lair as well as inventing new spells for the Death Eaters to use."

Hermione hadn't turned a page in a while now.

"In that case, your deal sounds much more acceptable," she told the wizard, narrowing her eyes slightly. "About the details, however… 'an obscene amount of money' doesn't quite specify."

Osiris grinned charmingly at her. "I won't specify a specific amount but would be quite willing to accept the bounties on the Death Eaters that I will capture for you."

Amelia acknowledged this with a nod. "That would be acceptable. How will you capture them if you cannot duel?"

"That's the simple part," Osiris told her genially. "I will place a spell on the front doors of Hogwarts, the Ministry and Voldemort's manor, which will capture, stun, disillusion and silence any person with a Dark Mark."

"Last time many of them got off by saying that they were under the Imperius," Amelia said darkly.

"Let me tell you a secret, Director Bones." He offered, leaning forward. Osiris was clearly enjoying the moment, revelling in the power that his knowledge gave him.

Amelia leaned in to hear it and he whispered, "The Dark Mark must be accepted while the person is willing in body and mind. It cannot be given while the person is under an Unforgiveable."

Madam Bones began grinning wildly, clearly restraining herself from dancing around the room. "Will you testify to that? If you do, we've got them! All of them!"

"I will testify." Osiris announced solemnly.

Hermione was smiling at her book, still having not turned the page. Osiris handed her a biscuit, which she accepted without looking up.

The DMLE Director had cheerfully stolen some paper and a pen from Hermione's desk and was now scribbling notes for herself. Hermione surreptitiously glanced over and discovered that it was a to-do list.

"How soon can you put the spells in place?" she asked, not looking up from her notes.

"Tomorrow afternoon," Osiris told her with certainty.

"Do it. I'll get you your cash and some legal documents to ensure that you're not questioned. Do you have the Mark?"

Osiris proudly displayed his bare forearm. "I didn't really want to serve him so it didn't stick."

The witch nodded brusquely. "Excellent. How will you capture Voldemort?"

"Voldemort cannot be captured," he told her, picking up on her blunt speech pattern. "I will weave a spell to kill him and deliver the body once all the other Death Eaters are captured; if they discover he's dead, they'll cut and run."

Amelia nodded. "Very well. What about the financial records?"

"They're in the safe at the Manor; Voldemort was so paranoid, he kept copies of all of his accounts in case one of the bribed officials decided to betray him."

"Bring them tomorrow with his body," she instructed.

Osiris nodded dutifully.

Amelia wrote _find a new MoM _on her to do list.

"You might also want to do something about Dumbledore," Hermione told her.

"What do you mean?"

"He's Headmaster of _the_ magical school of Britain, Supreme Mugwup _and_ Chief Warlock; that's clearly way too much responsibility, which is why he kept letting all that stuff happen at Hogwarts."

Amelia was growing rather suspicious now. "What stuff?"

Hermione just gaped at her. "Harry being forced into the Tournament, letting Sirius Black into the castle, letting a _giant frigging basilisk_ into the castle, letting a _Death Eater _teach Defence with the real teacher tied up in his trunk, letting a little girl possess a _cursed object_, letting _Voldemort_ feed off _unicorns_ and _teach Defence_!" she practically screeched in response.

Amelia drew a fresh sheet of paper from the pile. "Could you go over that again, but slowly? Negligence on this scale is certainly grounds for dismissal."

The girl began explaining her life of the past four years, making particular note of Dumbledore's absence in her first year, allowing Quirrel to fight for the Stone. Osiris chipped in with details of the Age Line and how Dumbledore never stopped people overage from submitting an entry for a younger student. When the pair was done, Amelia was reeling from the revelation that the aged professor was oblivious, manipulating or malicious; Osiris assured her that it was not the former.

While Amelia left to finalise the arrangements and instigate a corruption investigation to span the entire Ministry, the newly-named Osiris leant back into his chair, sipping his tea.

"The coming weeks will be hectic, to be sure, but also a time of progress for our society," the man observed.

Hermione nodded seriously. "Perhaps Hogwarts can get some good teachers now, especially since standards will be pulled up across magical Britain."

Riddle carefully placed his tea on the table and propped up his chin with his fingers. "Our country can finally become something to be proud of; perhaps we will craft a Great City and join the other Cities in their true utopia…" He stared wistfully into the distance.

The witch's curiosity was immediately piqued; she leaned forward, eyes questioning. "What do you mean, 'Great City'?"

Osiris hid his victorious smile behind his teacup, taking a sip before responding. "Why, I meant that we would create a city to the standards of the Great Cities of the world." He watched her puzzled expression and concealed a smile as he continued. "You must not have heard about them; last I heard, Hogwarts had been cleansed of such mentions on the order of Dumbledore."

Hermione's expression was outraged. "How dare he remove knowledge from the library?"

"Well," began the wizard, "He no doubt believed that knowledge of their existence would call into question the Ministry's stance on many things and his own shameful academic standards."

"How so?"

"The Great Cities are, quite frankly, utopia. All inhabitants sign a magical contract to not harm one another, so there is no violence or theft, while the skill of the runemasters and enchanters that created the city is such that magic takes care of the peoples' needs. Food is grown and harvested without intervention, as the spells do so automatically. Cleaning and cooking is done by magic; people spend their time in leisure or academic pursuits, crafting magical objects of great power and beauty."

Hermione's eyes were wide with excitement. "That's amazing!"

"There is no need for money, as money exists only to facilitate the function of an economy. There is no economy, as an economy exists only to facility the production and distribution of necessary goods; when food and clothing is freely available and belong to all, the only items for barter are luxuries, which are crafted with care and given as gifts only."

"Wow," the witch breathed, mind awhirl with possibilities. To spend all her time reading, learning, creating new and wonderful spells… It was something she had dreamed of since she knew her own magic existed. "Such places exist in the world?"

"But of course," Osiris replied charmingly. "They are where I spent my time while supposedly dead. There are seven in total, each a wonder of craftsmanship, magic and beauty." He wondered if he should pause and draw out the witch's anticipation, but if the enthusiasm in her face was any measure, she would take no such halts kindly. "The first to be made was Constantinople, the first hub of the magical world; scholars and artisans would meet there to share knowledge and spells; when the Ottomans came, the magicians of the city sunk every magical building into the earth, into an immense cavern that now houses the Great City of Constantinople, directly underneath the city of Istanbul. The magic the city is famous for is that of song, for Constantinople houses the Greek colonies of Sirens and the wizards there weave their own magic through music; it is, as ever, a city of sound."

"What about the other cities?" demanded Hermione.

"Do calm down, my dear," he said soothingly. "I'm sure we can discuss them another time, but for now we should probably get back to our own homes; I have arrangements to make in order to receive that money and property from the Ministry, while you no doubt should get back to your little friends."

The witch appeared frustrated but acquiescent. "When will we discuss them, then?"

Osiris scratched his head thoughtfully. "I should be settled in my new residence in two days' time; would you like to visit for lunch?"

Hermione nodded enthusiastically. "Can I bring Harry and Ron? I'm sure that they'd love to meet you, and you can tell us all about the Great Cities!"

Raising an eyebrow, the wizard nodded disdainfully. "If you feel the need to bring them, then I shall not prevent you, but I do advise that you explain the situation before they visit, lest they feel the need to injure me."

She paused; _I didn't think of that- Harry's seen Tom Riddle because of the diary thing in second year_. She hastily agreed nonetheless, before he could change his mind. "Owl me the address?"

"Certainly," he smiled, turning to exit.

"And Osiris?"

"Yes?" he asked, turning back around.

"Thankyou. For- for talking to me, for doing that stuff for the Ministry. It must have been very lonely to keep up that charade for so long."

Outwardly the wizard nodded graciously and Apparated away, but inwardly he was wondering at the innocence of youth. She was concerned about him, despite everything she knew about what he had done; he had no doubt that it was quite a lot, if her depth of knowledge about everything else was any measure. After a moment's contemplation, Osiris pushed his musings aside; there was work to do.


End file.
